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ENTRY OF
AN IMMENSE ENGLISH ARMY INTO DUMFRIESSHIRE – DESCRIPTION OF THE HOST BY
WALTER OF EXETER, A HISTORICAL POET WHO ACCOMPANIED IT – EDWARD I. VISITS
DUMFRIES AND LODGES IN THE GREYFRIARS’ MONASTERY – HE RETURNS TO CARLISLE,
PLACES HIMSELF AT THE HEAD OF THE INVADING ARMY, AND LAYS SIEGE TO THE
CASTLE OF CARLAVEROCK – DESCRIPTION OF THE CASTLE – DETAILED ACCOUNT OF
THE SIEGE – GALLANT RESISTANCE AND EVENTUAL SURRENDER OF THE GARRISON.
DUMFRIES
and its vicinity are so mixed up with the next English invasion, that we
must dwell upon its details at some length. Of all the expeditions
undertaken by Edward I. against the Scots, this was the most formidable
and costly. It was arranged on a magnificent scale, and designed to be
final and conclusive. Whenever the King’s back was turned, his power over
the country began to wane; and he resolved, if possible, to give his
rebellious subjects such a punishment as would keep them quiet and
well-behaved for the future. Walter of Exeter, who composed a historical
poem on the subject, accompanied the army; and as his work (written in
Norman-French) is still extant, we thus get a familiar glance at the
expedition and its progress. [“The famous Roll of Carlaverock, a poem, in
old Norman-French, rehearses the names and armorial designs of all the
various knights, &c., who attended Edward at the siege of Carlaverock,
A.D. 1300. Heraldry is therein, for the first time, presented to us as a
science.” – DEBRETT’S Peerage
of the United Kingdom, p. 513.]
Edward
having summoned all who owed him military service, in England, and
elsewhere, to attend upon him at Carlisle, on the Feast of the Nativity of
John the Baptist – who seems to have been his Majesty’s favourite saint –
“that day [1st of July, 1300],” says Walter, “the whole host
was ready, and the good King, with his household, then set forward against
the Scots, not in coats or surcoats, but on powerful and costly chargers,
and, that they might not be taken by surprise, securely armed. There were
many rich caparisons embroidered on silks and satins – many a beautiful
pennon fixed to a lance, and many a banner displayed; and afar off was the
noise heard of the neighing of horses – mountains and valleys were
everywhere covered with sumpter-horses and wagons with provisions, and
sacks of tents and pavilions: and the days were fine and long. They
proceeded by easy journeys, arranged in four squadrons.”
The first
squadron was led by Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln; the second by John,
Earl of Warren and Surrey; the third by Edward himself, whose appointments
and bearing are depicted by our authority in courtly style. “The King,” he
tells us, “brought up the rear so closely and ably, that none of the
others were left behind. In his banner were three leopards courant, of
fine gold, set on red – fierce, haughty, and cruel: thus placed to signify
that, like them, the King is dreadful, fierce, and proud to his enemies;
for his bite is slight to none who inflame his anger – not but that his
kindness is soon rekindled towards such as seek his friendship or submit
to his power.“
The
fourth squadron was under the command of Prince Edward, who was just
seventeen years old, and clad in armour for the first time. Not less
complimentary is the poet’s picture of the royal youth. “He was a
well-proportioned and handsome person, of courteous disposition and
intelligence; and desirous of finding an occasion to display his prowess.
He managed his steed wonderfully well, and bore with a blue label the arms
of the good King his father.” Who should be attending on the Prince but
our old acquaintance, John de St. John, Governor of Dumfries, whose duty
was, we are told, as an experienced warrior, to instruct the royal
neophyte in his knightly duties: so that, in reality, the fourth division
of the army was under the leadership of St. John.
Eighty-seven of the most distinguished vassals of the English Crown, with
their retainers, figured in the imposing array, including lords of
Bretagne and Lorraine, and Scottish renegades – Alexander Baliol (brother
of the ex-king), and Earl of Dunbar, Sir Simon Fraser, Henry de Graham,
and other false knights, who sunned themselves in the great King’s smiles,
regardless of their county’s tears. This splendid assemblage of armed men
filled, it is said, the whole way between Newcastle and Carlisle; and
never before, not even in the old Roman times, had such a host proceeded
northward.
Leaving
it in the Neighbourhood of the latter city, Edward, accompanied by a small
escort, proceeded to Dumfries, in order to ascertain for himself the
feeling borne towards him by the district and its capital. Most probably
St. John was one of the party; but the King did not claim the hospitality
of his castle. Passing its gates, he appeared at the door of the
monastery, and asked leave to become the guest of the Mendicant Brothers,
who, as a matter of course, made his Majesty welcome, and offered him
their best. Men of peace, they had no power, even if they had had the
will, to bid their martial visitors, with a tall, fierce-looking king at
their head, begone; and so, for several days in June, the latter were
boarded and lodged with the Minorite Friars of the Vennel. [Wardrobe
Accounts, p. 41.] The English party seem to have got on comfortably enough
in their temporary abode, as, before leaving it, the service afforded to
them was acknowledged by a handsome largesse. The object of the King’s
journey to and residence in Dumfries having been accomplished, he returned
to the “merrie citie,” and, setting his vast army in motion, it entered
the County on the 24th and 26th of June, marking its
progress by devastation and blood.
It was
part of Edward’s plan to strengthen all the fortresses he already
possessed, and increase their garrisons, and to seize all such as had
hitherto resisted his authority. By such means he expected to retain a
permanent hold of the country, after he had butchered or dispersed the
rebel army in the field. Accordingly, the breaches made in Lochmaben
Castle were filled up, the Castle of Dumfries was put in good repair, and
enlarged by the erection of a large peel, or wooden tower; and siege was
set to the Castle of Carlaverock, whose garrison scornfully refused to
give it up to the invaders, and prepared to keep them out of it as best
they could.
This
Border stronghold was situated about three hundred yards to the south-east
of the majestic ruin which now bears its name. “Its figure,” says Walter,
“was like that of a shield, for it had only three sides, with a tower on
each angle; one of them a jumellated or double one, so high, so long, and
so spacious, that under it was the gate, with a drawbridge well made and
strong, with a sufficiency of other defences. It had also good walls, and
ditches filled to the brim with water: and I believe there never was seen
a castle more beautifully situated; for at once could be seen the Irish
Sea towards the west, a charming country towards the north, encompassed by
an arm of the sea, so that no creature born could approach it on two
sides, without putting himself in danger of the sea. Nor was it an easy
matter towards the south, it being, as by the sea on the other side,
surrounded by the river, woods, marshes, and trenches; wherefore it was
necessary for the host to approach it towards the east, where the hill
slopes.”
Early in
the month of July, the siege commenced: three thousand men-at-arms forming
the attacking party, arranged into three battalions, and occupying the
slanting eminence on the east. “As soon as we were thus drawn up,”
continues Walter, “we were quartered by the marshal; and then might be
seen houses built without carpenters or masons, of many different fashions
– many a cord stretched with white and coloured cloth fastened by pins
driven into the ground – many a large tree cut down to make huts; and
leaves, herbs, and flowers gathered in the woods, which were strewed
within: then our people took up their quarters.” Our poetical historian
declares “that the gleam of gold and silver, and the radiance of rich
colours, emitted by the embattled host, illuminated the valley which they
occupied;” and, with quaint simplicity, he adds, “those of the castle,
seeing us arrive, might, as I well believe, deem that they were in greater
peril than they could ever before remember.” Not a doubt of it. The
garrison did not, perhaps, number more than a hundred: their supply of
food was limited; their connection with the sea was cut off; and they
could mark through the loopholes such a multitude coming up against their
castle as might blockade them into a surrender, should they choose to
adopt that slow but sure mode of aggression.
The fiery
spirit of the English King disrelishing such a tedious process, an attempt
to destroy the chief defences was resorted to, as soon as his squadron,
sailing up the Solway, supplied the means. It brought a welcome store of
provisions, as well as engines; and forthwith the footmen marched against
the fortress. “Then might be seen stones, arrows, and crossbow bolts to
fly from among them; but so effectually did those within exchange their
tokens with those without, that, in one short hour, there were many
persons wounded and maimed, and I know not how many killed.” To missiles
thrown by hand and bow were soon added other more formidable ones,
projected by catapults, and showers of blows from powerful battering-rams;
the assailants suffering much loss when planting down the engines. The
footmen, it appears, made little impression on the massive building; and
the men-at-arms, ironed from top to toe, hurried to their assistance. The
latter could better resist the interminable salutes of stone which were
rained down by the gallant little garrison, and on which they mainly
relied for defence; and so fast and heavily fell these mischievous
boulders, that, we are told, they “beat hats and helmets to powder, and
broke shields and helmets in pieces;” and ever as a brave knight was thus
done to death, a shout of exultation was heard rising above the din of
battle from within the beleaguered stronghold.
Some of
the assailants who signalized themselves are thus depicted, and their
feats described, in the curious work so frequently quoted from: - “First
of all,” says Walter, “I saw the good Baron Bertram de Montbouchier, on
whose shining silver shield were three red pitchers, with besants, in a
black border. With him Gerald de Gondronville, an active and handsome
bachelor. He had a shield neither more nor less than vaire. These were not
resting idle, for they threw up many a stone, and suffered many a heavy
blow. The first body was composed of Bretons, and the second were of
Lorraine, of which none found the other tardy; so that they afforded
encouragement and emulation to others to resemble them. Then came, to
assail the castle, Fitz-Marmaduke, with a banner and a great troop of good
and select bachelors.” Robert de Willoughby, Robert de Hamsart, and Henry
de Graham are then noticed as joining in the assault; next Thomas de
Richmont, who, in red armour, led on, a second time, some lances. “These,”
it is stated, “did not act like discreet people, nor as persons
enlightened by understanding, but as if they had been inflamed and blinded
with pride and despair; for they made their way right forward to the brink
of the very ditch;” nay, they passed, in view of the poetical reporter,
“quite to the bridge, and demanded entry,” receiving for reply “ponderous
stones and cornices.” Willoughby also pressed forward, till a stone,
lighting on “the middle of his breast,” arrested his career, though, we
are told, the blow might have been warded off by his shield, “if he had
deigned to use it.” Fitz-Marmaduke long occupied the post of danger, his
banner receiving “many stains, and many a rent difficult to mend;” while
Hamsart “bore himself so nobly that, from his shield, fragments might
often be seen to fly in the air,” he and Richmont driving the descending
stones upwards as if they were harmless shuttlecocks. Graham’s retainers
suffered severely, not above two returning unhurt or bringing back their
shields entire.
Hitherto,
it seems, notwithstanding the intrepidity of the assailants, the defenders
had the best of the fray. After a breathing time, a second attack was
made; the din waxed louder, and the struggle became more desperate. “Then
you might hear the tumult begin:” and Walter despairs of being able to
recount all the “brave actions” that ensued, as “the labour would be too
heavy;” but he gives a few specimens: - “Ralph de Gorges, a newly dubbed
knight, with harness and attire “mascally of gold, azure,” fell more than
once, struck by stones or jostled by the crowd; yet, “being of a haughty
spirit, he would not deign to retire.” Then Robert de Tony and Richard de
Rokeley plied those upon the wall so severely that they were frequently
forced to retreat; while Adam de la Forde mined away at the walls, “though
the stones flew in and out as thick as rain.” “The good Baron of Wigtoun
received such blows that it was the astonishment of all that he was not
stunned.”
Meanwhile
an engine called the robinet was in full play. Footmen, men-at-arms, and
cavalry might be beat back, and were; but the irresistible robinet threw
such large fragments of rock inside without intermission as to greatly
thin the ranks of the defenders. So destructively did it operate, that the
Knight of Kirkbride was able to reach the castle-gate. Many a heavy and
crushing stone greeted him while, “with white shield, having a green cross
engrailed,” he swept aside, and, swinging aloft his ponderous battle-axe,
assailed the gate, dealing such blows upon it as “never did smith with
hammer on iron.” [It is believed that Scott’s heart-thrilling description
of the storming of Torquilstone Castle was in some degree inspired by
Walter of Exeter’s narrative. The action of the Knight of Kirkbride will
remind the reader of what is said respecting the Black Knight. He
“approaches the postern with his huge axe – the thundering blows which he
deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the battle –
stones and beams are hurled down on the bold champion – he regards them no
more than if they were thistledown or feathers.” –
Vide Ivanhoe.] Some of
his followers plied it in similar fashion, till a party of the besieged
returning, in defiance of the deadly robinet, to the overlooking wall,
showered upon Kirkbride and his men “such huge stones, arrows, &c., that
it was with great difficulty they were able to retire.”
No pause
in the assault – no rest for the besieged. A relay of fresh warriors,
including Bartholomew de Badlesmere and John Cromwell, [This is perhaps
the first historical appearance of the name Cromwell on record. Carlyle
mentions a Lord Cromwell as having been summoned by Edward II. There is a
place called Cromwell on the Trent, Notts.] followed the banner of Lord
Clifford, when sent by him to the gate – it being the ravager of Annandale
who directed this part of the siege; “but the people of the castle would
not permit them to remain there long;” and, as they retreated, Cromwell’s
shield of blue, bearing a white lion rampant, came back battered and
defaced – the marvel being that its bearer, so “brave and handsome, who
went gliding between the stone,” got off unscathed. The attack was renewed
by La Warde and De Gray; and, afterwards, a more general assault was
recommenced by “the followers of my Lord of Bretagne, fierce and daring as
lions of the mountain, and every day improving in both the art and
practice of arms.” “Their party soon covered the entrance of the castle,
for none could have attacked it more furiously; not, however, that it was
so subdued, that those who came after them would not have a share in their
labours, as they left more than enough for them also.” The followers of
Lord Hastings and John Deincourt are specified as doing their duty nobly;
and “it was also a fine sight,” we are informed, “to see the good brothers
of Berkeley receiving numerous blows.”
Throughout the entire day, the defenders, though sorely plied, continued
their resistance; and full justice is done by Walter to their bravery.
“Those within,” he says, “continually relieved one another; for always as
one became fatigued, another returned fresh and stout, and notwithstanding
such assaults were made upon them, they would not surrender.” Night came
without bringing to them any repose, as the season was midsummer, and
allowed light sufficient for the assailants to continue their labours
without cessation; and if their personal attacks relaxed for a moment, the
terrible engine tore away untiringly during the twilight as it had done in
the flush of day; and as the second day dawned, the besieged counted with
dismay one, two, three more robinets, casting their shadows on the hill,
and preparing like so many Titans to bury them under a mountainous pile of
stones. We can readily imagine them holding a council of war, and array of
destructive force. If any proposed that the castle should be given up
without further resistance, such pacific suggestion was overruled; and the
clangour of battle, which had only partially died away during the night,
again rose high, resounding through the embowering woods and echoing along
the Solway shore.
In vain,
however, did the remnant of the garrison maintain the unequal conflict:
they could have overcome mere manual assaults – they could only for a
limited time bid defiance to the engines, which, says our authority, were
“very large, of great power, and very destructive – cutting down and
cleaving whatever they strike. Fortified town, citadel, barrier, nothing
is protected from their strokes. Yet those within did not flinch until
some [more] of them were slain, when each began to repent of his obstinacy
and to be dismayed. The pieces fell in such a manner wherever the stones
entered, that, when they struck any of them, neither iron cap nor wooden
target could save him from a wound.” At tierce, on the second day of the
siege, when they saw that they could hold out no longer, they “begged for
peace,” making an overture to that effect in the usual manner. From a
loophole of the jumellated tower in front, a small white pennon was
thrust; and ere the English marshal had time to stay proceedings in answer
to the signal, an arrow from an English bow passed through the hand of him
who held the olive branch, into his face, thus pinning both together. The
unfortunate flag-bearer “then begged that they would do not more to him;
for they would give up the castle to the King, and throw themselves on his
mercy.” Upon which the assault was stopped, and the castle surrendered.
The
defenders, on passing out, were reviewed before Edward, and found to
number only sixty. “They were,” says Walter, “beheld with astonishment;”
and it was natural that the besieging army should wonder that a handful of
men should be able to resist their mighty host for such a lengthened
period. The ultimate fate of this gallant few is left in doubt. Their
lives, according to Walter, were spared by order of the King, and they
were each presented with a new garment; whereas, in the Chronicle of
Lanercost it is stated that many of them were hanged from the trees around
the castle – a treatment, if true, that accords with the usual merciless
policy of the English monarch. As the name of Sir Herbert Maxwell, who
owned Carlaverock at this period, is not mentioned by the Exeter
historian, the likelihood is that he was not present at its defence.
Previously to the siege, or on the first day of its progress, Edward
visited the churches of Applegarth, Tinwald, and Dumfries, to offer
oblations on their altars, with a view of securing a blessing upon his
efforts. Now that they were crowned with success, he caused the castle to
be repaired, and, consigning it to the keeping of Lord Clifford, proceeded
to Dumfries, crossed with his army Devorgilla’s Bridge over the Nith, and
entered Galloway, where he continued about six weeks prosecuting the
objects of his expedition. [Rymer’s Fœdera, vol. i., p. 921; and Wardrobe
Accounts, p. 215.] |
